Bootycall
by needlesandthread
Summary: When Grimmjow encounters Ichigo at a club and gets him home in his bed, afterwards they agree on a friends with benefits plan, no strings, no feelings attached. Should be easy enough to keep him entertained before it's on to the next one, right? OOC, malexmale. Lemons, lemons, lemons.
1. Chapter 1: In Need of Release

_**I don't own Bleach or it's characters.** __Hello readers! I'm back in the saddle with something new! I do hope you enjoy this story as much as I am enjoying writing it, it's begging to get out of my brain. I will do my best to update every Monday! I've missed writing, and I hope this is captivating for you all!_

Chapter One: In Need of Release

"Sir, let me just advise ya that this may set us back a day or two in our time frame. While I account fer problems to come up in my plannin', I wasn't expectin' to be havin' them already."

Grimmjow rubbed at his azure eyes, growing more frustrated by the second as the man jabbered away in that whining voice of his. He hated it when he got clients who were commissioning him to build their wife's dream homes, because the wives got all crazy with their demands and nobody gave any regard to his job and how after certain points things became irreversible. Why couldn't people fucking stick to the original blue prints?

He glowered down at the blue print spread in front of him on his desk as the man continued to whine into his ear. He was moments away from ripping off his blue tooth and stomping it to a fine dust beneath his black leather steel-toed boot.

"Listen, sir, the changes can be made, ok? My crew is excellent, and we want the finished product to be up to yer standards. Be assured that we will be reversin' the first agreed to plan and starting on the changes as soon as you two get here and sign off on the necessary paperwork. Until then, production stops."

Grimmjow picked up a pencil from beside his keyboard, squeezing it in a tightly curled fist as hard he could and imagining it was the customer's neck. The man agreed that he and his wife would be there in fifteen minutes, and the moment he disconnected, Grimmjow snapped the pencil in half and threw it across the small trailer and began cussing the paint off the wall from the comfort of his leather chair.

* * *

A half an hour later, the construction crew watched as the Black Lincoln navigator of the home owners pulled away, and 30 seconds later their boss stomped down the metal stairs from the trailer, stalking toward them across the barren soil and kicking up dust clouds with 'I'm gonna kill someone' vibes emanating from his being. Everybody jumped to attention from their lounging positions they took up after being told to stop working before the meeting.

"Change of plans," he barked out, motioning the crew to gather around.

"As ya all can see, I've had a visit from Mrs. Prissy ass and Mr. I've got no balls. We will be redoin' the basement accordin' to Mrs. Prissy ass' new wishes."

He unfolded the plans across a makeshift table made of a sheet of plywood and two sawhorses.

"We will be tearin' down the walls that make up these walls for the basement bedroom and storage area, and movin' them here," Grimmjow said, indicating with his finger across the plans, arching a brow as the crew began grumbling.

"You gotta be fuckin' shittin' me man!" cried a voice from over his left shoulder.

"Wish I was Nnoi, but the fact remains that yer undoin' and redoin' a shit ton of electrical. This wall where ya installed the fuse box will have to be moved now, since it's where the bedroom closet will be-"

"And it's now a code violation, yeah I fuckin' see that," snapped the lanky electrician.

"Just checkin', Cyclops," Grimmjow shot back with a sneer.

Nnoitra flipped him the bird and stalked off, his subordinates following him to begin stripping the unfinished walls of wire.

"Luckily, it doesn't change the beam placement," droned a shorter man with a bored monotone, peering more closely at blue prints to double check measurements.

"Yeah, small miracles, but the lumber, dry wall, hardware, and man power already put in are wasted now. Once the guys get the walls ripped down, make sure someone fills in the holes with cement. Since the bedroom is movin' to where the family room is, we have to put in an egress window there too. I have to go make a few phone calls, and then I'll be over to help."

Green eyes widened only fractionally and the somber man let a very small smirk tug at his lips.

"Coming down from the tower, oh mighty one?"

Grimmjow just glared at him before turning around and stomping back to the trailer. He had better shit to do than to be drawn into mind games with Ulquiorra, like double check that his vendors would be delivering on time. They were already going to be set back and have to double down on hours to make up for it. That reminded him, he'd have to see who could pull some OT and rearrange the schedule. Some days, it sucked being in charge.

* * *

The week was long and grueling for Grimmjow. They made great time in the basement making up for the design set back, but they had a lumber supply show up three hours behind schedule, had a new guy shatter a custom cut picture window pane, and the people who delivered the siding somehow fucked the order up, sending the completely wrong color. On the plus side, the plumbing and electrical was complete, and what was just a shell could really start coming together as a house in the next few weeks. Despite the setbacks, Grimmjow was certain they'd still make his projected deadline, so long as nothing super major came up.

He raked his hands through his blue locks, looking up when the door to the trailer swung open. Lazy gray-blue eyes met his from underneath stray brown waves of hair that escaped the clutches of the yellow hard hat holding back the rest of the unkempt strands.

"The cavalry has arrived," he muttered, as Starrk wandered in and plopped down in a plastic chair in front of the desk.

"You look like you need a cold beer, my friend," Starrk commented after assessing Grimmjow with his sleepy eyes.

"Ya've never told a lie," Grimmjow agreed, pushing himself up from the chair.

"Thanks for comin' in Coyote, I appreciate this," Grimmjow said, donning his hardhat and moving over to let the former foreman take his seat.

Coyote traded the plastic chair for the plush leather one, grinning lazily at Grimmjow in response. He surveyed the plans on the desk while absentmindedly running a few slender fingers through his goatee.

"Just have them finish up the attic insulation, and make sure them lazy bastards get the knee walls. When that shit's done, they can fuck off til' tomorrow."

Coyote's eyes roamed over Grimmjow, analytical.

"Job's getting to you too much, Jag. You need to get that out of your system."

"Plan on it. Nnoi and Cifer are draggin' me to some club in Seireitei. I'm sure I'll find a good hump and dump there."

Coyote continued the analytical stare, a slow smirk pulling at his lips.

"You know, my offer still stands. You don't have to keep running through men at clubs and bars. You'll live to regret that one day."

Grimmjow grinned.

"Ha! Old man, you wouldn't be able to keep up fer one. Fer two, unless ya change yer preference, it won't happen cuz' mine ain't changin'. Ya won't catch me takin' up the ass by no dude. And three, yer the one who taught me not to shit where ya eat, so to speak."

Coyote shrugged, settling deeper into the chair.

"The stalemate still stands then. Well have a good time, be safe and all that shit."

Grimmjow gave Starrk a salute, shaking his head as he left the trailer. Starrk was ten years his senior, which at 38, wasn't very old, but he liked to call him old anyway. He was the first foreman of Espada Construction, back when Grimmjow's uncle Aizen ran the joint. Starrk had sort of been his mentor as he came up from being a rookie at the bottom digging holes, quietly giving him pointers and sometimes helping him with homework as Grimmjow advanced toward his architectural engineering degree.

Somehow Starrk had been the first person he confessed to about being gay in his second year of college. He'd been banging guys since his junior year of high school but even his best friends didn't know, since women found themselves content to hang all over him, people just assumed he was into chicks. Grimmjow wasn't one for talking about feelings and all that bullshit, but he just wanted someone to know. Maybe to gauge the reaction of the news, since he was sort of the definition of a man- super into sports, tools, trucks, and all that sort of shit.

He never expected Starrk's predatory smirk at his confession, or his offer to let Grimmjow into his bedroom. It had been a long standing joke between the two of them over the years, even though he knew Starrk was sincere. The problem was they both topped, neither interested in switching. And Grimmjow valued his relationship with Starrk too much to fuck it up, seeing as how Grimmjow never had an actual relationship. He never slept with the same guy more than once, never kissed them, and most certainly never let them stay the night. Get in, and get out. He didn't have any time for clingy bullshit and some drama queen who wanted to tie him down.

He made it to his black pickup truck, jumping up into the cab and knocking as much dirt from his boots as possible before putting his feet all the way in the truck. He tossed his hard hat into the back seat, putting the key in the ignition and brought the truck to life. After hitting play on his Ipod, he pulled away from the worksite with the sound system thundering one of his favorite dub step songs, feeling his muscles loosen as he headed for home to go out with his friends.

* * *

Grimmjow emerged from his shower-steamed bathroom clad in nothing but a low slung towel and strode over to his huge closet. He was raised by his uncle Aizen, who adopted him when his mother passed away when he was six. That's what the gothic six that was tattooed into his lower back symbolized, a black beacon glaring out from the pale skin. His uncle was a good man, despite being somewhat aristocratic and cool in his mannerisms, and had taught Grimmjow two important things. The first was if you were going to do something, you do it right the first time. Half way wasn't the way of Sosuke Aizen. Secondly, it was expected that a man should always look good. His uncle somehow managed to always look good no matter what it was he was doing, and it was something Grimmjow picked up and found pride in.

That pride had gotten him called arrogant by more than one person in his day, but Grimmjow didn't make it a habit to dwell on what people who weren't important to him thought about him. His uncle always told him that he looked exactly like his father, who did not deign to stick around after he knocked up his mother. And standing at 6'1" with a body of 175 pounds of solid, ripped muscle, he supposed he at least owed thanks for decent enough genetics, although he knew that the job and dedication to fitness had got him pretty far from his awkward teenaged body.

As much as he loved his truck, tonight he was feeling the itch to take Pantera out. Grimmjow didn't often put on a display of his wealth, nor was he frivolous with his money, but he allowed himself one guilty pleasure; Pantera. Pantera was his own custom built Harley Davidson Breakout, a smooth and powerful ride that was deep blue candy painted, black leather, and chrome. It was truly his baby, and there was nothing like racing around the curves of the highway with it purring between his thighs.

He'd be wearing riding attire, which he had to admit he really liked. He was comfortable in it and the badass look usually made for some interesting sex; it tended to draw out the real freaks. The towel was stripped from his waist and dropped into a hamper. He drew on black boxer briefs and opted for dark washed blue jeans in a straight leg. He accented it with a black leather belt with a herringbone pattern and authentic silver buckle. While he would have normally just thrown on a white tee, he could just hear the bitching Ulquiorra would do over that, so he chose a fitted white tee with a muted gray skull graphic just to shut him up if he ended up taking off his jacket.

He chose a black leather jacket that matched his belt in color, fitted with lots of pockets and zippers. He tossed it on the bed while he finished, stepping into and lacing up his combat boots, slathering on deodorant and slapping on some expensive cologne. He ran through his hair with a bit of gel, letting his blue strands fall into their natural chaos. No sense in trying to really style it when he was just going to cram a helmet over his head anyway.

"Ya plannin' on gettin' this show on tha road any time soon, boss? Move yer ass!" Nnoitra hollered from his living room.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes and grabbed his jacket, putting it on as he walked down the hallway to meet his friend. He didn't know why he gave that loud mouth a key to his house, but that's what happens when you befriend loud mouths when you're ten and stay friends for life.

Nnoitra whistled when he appeared and Grimmjow flicked him off, grabbing his wallet from off the console table and shoving it in his back pocket.

"Take it yer following instead of ridin' with, huh?"

"Ya assume correct," Grimmjow answered, snatching up the set of keys that was for Pantera.

"Let's go find some hotties to lay some pipe in," said his one eyed friend with a raunchy grin, his ever present bandana secured over his eye.

Grimmjow shook his head and followed, pausing only to double check the house was locked up tight. Nnoitra was eloquent as always, but he had to agree with the sentiment. He was definitely down for handing out some destruction of his own tonight.

* * *

**End Chapter. **_I'd love some feed back! Does this sound interesting? XD_


	2. Chapter 2: On the Prowl

**I don't own Bleach or it's characters.** _This week was complete crap. Bombed my Spanish test, barely passed my Geology test. This semester just blows. On the plus side, however, I got my wonderful Valentines Day gift- the Hogwarts crest tattooed on my inner forearm! It's so badass and I love it. (Yes, I am a turbo nerd.)_

Chapter Two: On the Prowl

"OH MY GOD!"

Shinji and Ichigo stepped into Hypnotic, the newest club in Seireitei. Shinji grinned at his friend, barely hearing the exclamation he shouted upon entering the club. Shinji had been employed here for a little over a month as a DJ, after previously working at a club in Karakura Town called Revolution. Needless to say, Hypnotic lived up to its name, being ten times bigger and better than the other club could ever hope to be. The music was blasting full force, Shinji's co-worker Shuhei was spinning tonight, the bass hitting so hard Ichigo thought his sternum might shatter, reverberating from the floor and up through his body.

Colorful lights flashed and strobe lights pulsed, doing crazy things to the image of writhing bodies on the extra large dance floor. It reflected off Shinji's silver sequin hat, bouncing blinding beams of light into his eyes from the close proximity. Ichigo was instantly glad he stuck with a fitted tee shirt and jeans, foregoing the tight leather pants his flamboyant friend wanted to force him into. He could already tell the kind of sweat he was going to end up working up in here. How had it taken him all this time to get here?

Shinji's hand enclosed around his wrist, pulling him toward the bar with every intent to start on his mission. Shinji loved to get absolutely shit faced, be a slut on the dance floor and then a slut in someone's bed. Ichigo didn't have enough fingers to count how many times he had to collect his friend from a stranger's house or nurse him back from a hangover, many times both at the same time. But they were young and this was their last year of college, and nothing was ever a dull moment when you were friends with Shinji.

The bartender winked at Shinji, apparently understanding Shinji's hand movements as an interpretation of his drink order. It was still early enough that they were able to find seats at the bar and Ichigo slid onto a bar stool gratefully. Ichigo loved to dance, but he was a slow to warm up guy, meaning he had to be pretty inebriated before he actually got out on the dance floor. Shinji was much more like a firecracker, ready to go off at any moment with any guy meeting his standards. He smirked as Shinji plunked down a shot of something in front of him, raising it and downing it in sync with his friend. And so the night had begun.

* * *

Nnoitra was gone the second they entered the club, following immediately after a woman with a rack so big Grimmjow failed to see how she could stand up, she was so top heavy. He shook his head at Ulquiorra, who rolled his eyes. Grimmjow knew it wouldn't be long before his other friend deserted him too; his girlfriend Loly was a waitress in the VIP. They pushed their way to the bar, Grimmjow hyper-aware of the stares he was getting from women and men alike. He let his gaze flick analytically over some of the men who tried to catch his eye, making rejections and taking in considerations for later if any of them had the balls to approach him.

Firstly, he was going to get some alcohol in his system, after all, he was here to have some fun and unwind before picking anybody up. He was able to order his and Ulquiorra's beer over the thunder of the music, leaning against the bar and observing the dance floor. He wasn't even a quarter of the way into his beer when suddenly very large pair of breasts was damn near thrust into his face. Ulquiorra smirked and slinked away, leaving Grimmjow to deal with the woman. He shot daggers at his friend's retreating back and then turned to lady with a humorless smile.

All curves and strawberry blond hair, she smiled predatorily at him.

"Buy me a drink?" she asked, or rather semi shouted after standing up on her toes to position herself next to his ear and all in his personal space.

"Got no problem buyin' ya' a drink, but I don't bat fer yer team, sweetheart," he replied with a smirk, watching the disappointment flicker across her face. She pouted and spun away, no doubt to find another man to prey on. Grimmjow rolled his eyes and chugged his beer, turning and signaling the bartender for another one. It was going to be a long night if he was going to have to keep beating women off him.

Grimmjow was three beers in when he was damn near blinded by some skinny guy's hat that crashed in to him, squeezing in between Grimmjow and another guy at the bar to get drinks. He raised his eyebrows, taking in the blonds' rather eccentric style. Well, he was awfully loud and proud.

The guy next to him apparently liked what he saw, sliding some money out with a lecherous grin to pay for the drinks the blond had ordered. The blonde smiled warmly in thanks, and the man leaned over and asked if the guy behind him was his boyfriend. Normally, Grimmjow wouldn't have even looked; it wasn't his style to be in other people's business like that. But curiosity got the best of him, eating at him to know who might possibly put claim on the flashy blonde.

He glanced surreptitiously behind the blonde on a long drag of beer that drained the bottle, nearly choking when he caught sight of the guy. His eyes followed the movement of the blonde shaking his head in the negative before moving back to his friend, who had turned with his drink to watch the dance floor.

Grimmjow had never seen someone with a head full of orange that vibrant in all his life. He couldn't complain, after all his hair was a pretty crazy shade of blue, but he could tell that this guy's hair was for real, much like his own. You couldn't get that hair color out of a box. The color complimented his tanned skin, and with his back turned Grimmjow was getting a full view of his curvy ass, the black skinny jeans clinging to him like a second skin.

God damn. If Grimmjow knew that guys this hot were roaming around this club he would have came a month ago when it opened. He just hoped the guy was not a straight arrow or taken by someone else not currently present, and that he wasn't just a pretty face that would ruin everything the minute his mouth opened. Grimmjow decided that this orange haired hottie was tonight's conquest.

He was jarred from his musings when the blonde crashed into him again. Friend of the guy he wanted to fuck or not, Grimmjow was getting a little tired of that. He glanced over at the blonde, ready to light into him. However, he changed his attitude when he realized the guy who paid for their drinks had a hold of the blonde's arm, and the blonde looked none too happy with it. Grimmjow mentally face palmed. Now he really was going to have to get involved in the blonde's business.

Grimmjow shoved up from where he was leaning against the bar at the same time as the friend was turning around and catching the situation. Too bad for him, Grimmjow was faster. He reached around the blonde's waist, maneuvering him from the man's hold and shoving the smaller blonde behind him. Towering over the other guy at his full height, he stepped right into the guy's personal space and glared down at him with a borderline psychotic look.

"There a problem here, man?" Grimmjow thundered, squaring his broad shoulders in a way that subtly puffed out his chest and strained the leather of his jacket.

The guy instantly shrunk into himself, his hands waving in front of him while he spluttered and stuttered some nonsense that Grimmjow really couldn't hear over the music.

Grimmjow leaned down, just a few inches from the man's face.

"Beat it. If I see ya touchin' him again, I'll rip yer head off and shit down yer throat. Got it?"

The man turned pale, nodded once and then scrambled away, rudely shoving people who were in his way in his haste. Grimmjow smirked and turned back to the blonde and his companion.

"You ok?" he asked the blonde, who looked up at him in awe. The shock wore off quickly with that one though, Grimmjow noted as a playful grin stretched across the blonde's lips.

"I'm Shinji. And yes, I'm ok thanks to you, muscles. Can I buy you a drink?"

Grimmjow shook his head. He held alcohol well, but he was already three beers in. If he wanted to make it home with his body and Pantera in one piece, not to mention anybody he took with him, he needed to slow it down.

"Who's yer friend?" Grimmjow asked, inclining his head slightly at the orange head, who was still staring at him in disbelief.

Shinji raised an eyebrow, sipping his drink as he thoughtfully regarded Grimmjow, his light brown eyes scanning Grimmjow's own and making Grimmjow uncomfortable, although he didn't outwardly show it.

"Ichigo," he said, handing his finished drink to Grimmjow, "come dance with me!" he cried dramatically, flipping his hair in Grimmjow's direction as he latched onto his slightly taller friend, pulling the hesitant and confused looking orange head out toward the dance floor. Grimmjow watched them leave, the crowd parting to let them through. _Ichigo, huh_?

As if sensing Grimmjow thinking his name, Ichigo turned around, his chocolate eyes catching Grimmjow's own in a fleeting moment before the crowd enveloped him and he was gone. A predatory glint shone in Grimmjow's eye as he mindlessly set Shinji's empty cup on the bar and made his way around the crowd from the back, looking for a position where he could observe this dancing from a distance. Now that he had a lock on his target, he wasn't letting him get away.

* * *

Ichigo easily picked up on the beat of the song that was playing when Shinji finally got them a little left of the center of the dance floor. That was Shinji, always had to be in the middle of everything and the center of attention. He didn't really know this song and let Shinji take the lead, who really didn't wait for the invitation anyway, draping himself onto Ichigo and moving sensually against him.

Both were comfortable enough in their sexuality and their friendship to move against each other in this way. When Ichigo first confessed in their junior year of high school to Shinji he was gay, he kind of wondered if it would change the way they saw each other. But Shinji was not Ichigo's type, and he loved Shinji too much as a friend and almost brother to ever see him in a sexual light. The same went for Shinji, even though it was hard for people to distinguish that from the way he was always flirting and dropping sexual innuendos around Ichigo. That was just who he was.

When a different song came on, Shinji was whisked away by a dark haired man, and hands slid around Ichigo's hips from behind him. That was the way it went on dance floors, and Ichigo just went with it, trying to lose himself in the music. He wasn't drunk enough for this. Dancing with Shinji was one thing; strangers were another when he was still mostly sober.

The guy he was dancing with was about his same height but broader, pulling Ichigo back by the hips so Ichigo's ass was grinding into his crotch. Ichigo slid against the guy behind him, hips swaying to the beat, until he could feel the guy's erection pressing into his ass. He was irritated to say the least, and spun around so he could have a look at this jerk. Ichigo kept his gaze neutral as the guy smirked at him, quickly cataloging the man's average features. He wasn't ugly, but he wasn't particularly attractive either, and he certainly wasn't someone that Ichigo wanted rutting against him like a dog in heat. He wasn't some free hump, god damn it.

It was only halfway through the song but Ichigo didn't give a shit. The guy was sliding his hands up and under Ichigo's t-shirt, his fingers digging into the skin as he tried to pull Ichigo closer so that their pelvises would grind together. Ichigo hated it when people were presumptuous and got all hands-y with him. He tamped down a flare of instantaneous anger and pulled back.

"I'm terribly thirsty, but thanks for the dance," he half shouted to the guy. He spun out of the man's grasp and slid off the dance floor, picking his way around the couples gyrating against each other and trying to avoid the other hands that pulled at him to join them. Ichigo bypassed the bar and headed outside, the need for fresh air to cool his body and his mind growing intolerable.

The night air slammed against his slightly sweat dampened body, wrapping itself around him like a lovers embrace. He sucked in a couple deep breaths, holding it in and expelling it with relief, pushing out the negativity that threatened to ruin his night. He walked to a light post that was about 20 yards from the right of the entrance that lead to the fenced in parking lot and leaned against it, looking up into the blackness of the sky. He frowned at it, reflecting on how the city lights and buildings smothered out the natural light of the stars.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there in contemplation, but he jarred out of his reverie when he noticed a man approaching him. The closure he got, Ichigo realized it was the man from the dance floor. He noted the hair standing on his arms and the slight wave of nausea he got that told him his instincts were signaling danger to him. His eyes swept the area, but he only noticed the one guy approaching.

He quickly stepped on his shoelace and pulled it undone. He started to walk and pretended to step on it, noticing it loose. He used the distraction when he dropped down to tie it to covertly check the parking area, noting another two men approaching casually from behind.

_Fuck_.

* * *

**End Chapter.** _Poor Ichi, trouble just seems to follow him, huh? Do stay tuned to see what happens! Comments always appreciated! =)_


	3. Chapter 3: Throw Down

**I don't own Bleach or it's characters. **_Hi everyone! I'm very encouraged by the follows, favorites, and reviews so far! I'm glad you are enjoying the story as much as I am writing it. This chapter is action packed, so if that's your thing, I'm delivering! Much thanks to my beta: Misc. Ink._

Chapter Three: Throw Down

Grimmjow watched from the edge of the crowd as the orange head rocked against the guy who grabbed him, noting with amusement the flash of distaste that marred his gorgeous face. It was so fast Grimmjow almost questioned whether or not he really saw it. The guy moved fast when Ichigo spun around on him, slipping his hands from Ichigo's hips under his shirt. Grimmjow sneered in jealously, but it was a very short lived expression when his new interest shoved himself out of the man's grasp and stalked off the dance floor.

Grimmjow watched as the man hesitated long enough to let Ichigo get a thirty second lead and then stiffly walked off the floor, reaching in his back pocket to pull out his phone. His fingers flew as he rapidly fired off a text. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and headed determinedly in Ichigo's wake, Grimmjow reading something sinister in his eyes. It snapped him up and into action, carefully trailing a few steps behind the man. When he realized that man was indeed following Ichigo outside, Grimmjow detoured off to the side, making his way for a fire exit that led out of the right side of the building.

Grimmjow slipped through the door and slunk down the side of the building parallel to the parking lot. He paused at the corner, noticing the man stalking slowly toward Ichigo from the front entrance. Two others were approaching from the parking lot. Ichigo was dropped down tying his shoe lace, oblivious to the fact he was about to get jumped. Grimmjow hung back on the side of the building, careful to hidden behind the corner until the other two passed him. If they spotted him his plan to catch the jump on them wouldn't work. The brick of the building pressed hard into his back as he leaned against it, rolling his neck and shoulders.

The crunch of gravel grew more audible as the two men passed; neither of them any taller than Ichigo, but one of them was pretty well built, muscle-wise. It wasn't so much Mr. Muscle he was worried about; it was his lanky friend next to him. He could see the way the guy's body twitched, unusually dark circles ringed his eyes and he wore a hoodie. It was the middle of July. Grimmjow had been around enough drug addicts to spot a heroin junkie; he could tell it'd been some time for this one which made that guy all the more dangerous. Heroin addicts were some of the most violent people, and Grimmjow decided that he was going for hoodie guy first.

* * *

Ichigo looked up as his aggravator came to a halt in front of him, noting in his peripheral how close the other two were getting. He could tell this nefarious guy had some little speech prepared, but he wasn't going to let it even get that far. Ichigo struck while Mr. Hands-y was unprepared, probably thinking Ichigo had no clue what was up. He surged upwards, kicking the guy square in the nuts with all the force of his potential energy from pushing off the ground.

The guy turned as white as snow in the face as he fell backwards, sucking in gales of air in an attempt to exhale the pain that now had him shaking like a leaf and tears clouding his vision. He hit the ground and clutched at his aching frontal area, a high pitched whine being emitted from his mouth with every wheeze. Ichigo spun around instantly and began backing away as the other two closed the distance that had been between them; it was never good to get yourself flanked.

The larger guy charged at him, Ichigo surmised he meant to grab him around the waist and slam him into the ground. He waited until he had seconds before being snatched to artfully side step and aimed a round house kick that landed effectively between the shoulder blades. The man was launched a few extra feet away by the kick and was eating gravel when Ichigo turned an eye to other man, something shiny sliding out of the sleeve of his soiled hoodie.

* * *

Grimmjow was impressed - the orange head could hold his own. To Grimmjow's eye, it seemed as if the kid had been trained in some sort of self defense - his moves were too graceful and calculated to be chance. He watched Ichigo drop the first two guys like they were nothing. It just made Ichigo all the more attractive and interesting. He felt heat pool in his gut and had to remind the organ in his pants that now was indeed not the time.

He spotted the butterfly knife sliding out of sleeve of the junkie's hoodie and tensed. It glinted in the light of the parking lamps and Grimmjow noticed Ichigo eyeing it warily. The muscled man was started to pick himself up, and Grimmjow figured now was when he needed to intervene. The two working together with the knife as an additional variable was probably more than Ichigo could handle alone, despite whatever training he had. Grimmjow would feel like an asshole if he sat back and watched Ichigo get cut.

He sprang from the corner of the building, thankful for staying in shape as he felt his muscles respond and propel him with a burst of speed. Ichigo had enough time to catch a streak of blue hurtling toward him before he had to start dodging the knife as the junkie started slashing angrily at him.

Grimmjow dropped and slid across the gravel like he was sliding into home plate, coming up behind the muscled man and using a leg to swipe the guy's feet from beneath him. They guy hit the ground hard but rolled over and sprang up, meeting Grimmjow who had done the same. Grimmjow grinned manically at him, adrenaline racing through his blood. It'd been a while since he got to beat the shit out of somebody; he was looking forward to letting off some steam on this asshole.

Ichigo kept dodging the knife, doing his best to keep enough distance between him and the blade wielding foe so he couldn't get close, but he also was finding it hard to get a safe opening to take the guy down without getting stabbed. He noticed it was the guy from the bar that had helped Shinji that was fighting with the muscled guy, the two of them dancing around each other and every now and then throwing punches. It looked like the blue haired guy knew what he was doing, the other guy's face was bloodied and he didn't look very steady.

Grimmjow's uncle had him learn how to box at an early age, and Grimmjow was enjoying putting those ingrained skills to work. Obviously this guy he was up against had no idea how to really fight, and kept leaving himself wide open without a guard up for Grimmjow to attack. He hit the dumb fuck with a check hook twice, busting his nose and lip. The guy had managed to get him in the ribs pretty good, but Grimmjow was determined not to let him land another tap. He had a deadly right hook and as soon as he got his opening, he was hoping to end it with a haymaker.

Ichigo dodged another swipe that whistled through the air, coming dangerous close to his chest. This guy was fast and persistent; Ichigo couldn't really keep much distance in between them. The guy's eyes were crazy and desperate, and Ichigo wasn't sure how much longer he was going to be able to keep this run around up. He darted backwards to the left, not realizing his error until he felt a hand clasp his ankle and yank.

* * *

Ichigo yelped and crashed to the ground, the guy he kicked in the balls took his feet out from under him and the gravel pierced his back. The muscled guy watched Ichigo hit the ground, and Grimmjow took his chance. He threw everything he had into the punch, landing it straight on the guy's lower right jaw. The sickening crack of splintered bone barely registered as Grimmjow pivoted on his heels and sprinted over to help Ichigo, who looked to be in some serious shit.

The junkie had clambered on top of Ichigo before he could get up, driving his knife down toward his ribs. Ichigo caught the wrist with the knife and halted its progress, and both men had the same idea and used their free hand to grasp at each other's throat. Except Ichigo was at a disadvantaged being pinned to the ground, all his real energy focused in on the hand with the knife, and was beginning to turn blue from oxygen loss. The guy he kicked in the balls was slowly inching forward toward him, intent on helping his junkie friend win the fight.

Just when Ichigo thought it was the end, little black dots starting to pop into his line of vision, the weight of the junkie was suddenly gone from on top of him. Ichigo rolled away, coughing and gasping sweet night air into his lungs, his eyes snapping toward his savior. The blue haired guy snatched the junkie off him as if he were no more than a sheet of paper and threw his ass to the side. Then he proceeded to kick the guy on the ground in the ribs repeatedly until the guy was spitting up blood.

The junkie recovered quickly, but before Ichigo could cough out a warning, the bluenette spun around as if he had a sixth sense. Unfortunately, the knife slicing through the air caught his forearm, the sound of ripping leather carrying over to Ichigo's ears.

"MOTHERFUCKER!" Grimmjow snarled when the knife caught him. The sight of his blood set him off like a bull, and he jumped right up into the guy's space instead of dancing out of reach like Ichigo had, grabbing the wrist with the knife on its next descent through the air. He quickly twisted his hand so the junkie's wrist was forced in an impossible angle, causing the knife to drop with a clatter to ground as the guy howled.

Ichigo staggered over and kicked the knife away, and Grimmjow was still twisting. He didn't stop until the guy's screams reached a crescendo, nearly covering the sickening pop of the wrist breaking. The blue haired guy hauled the junkie up to near standing and sucked in a deep breath, before smashing his forehead straight into the guy's face. Ichigo was pretty sure the guy was unconscious before he hit the ground.

Grimmjow staggered over to the light post and leaned against it, the adrenaline starting to thin out and the pain of his wounds started becoming noticeable.

"Have you got a hero complex?" the orange haired kid asked him with a scowl.

"What tha' fuck kinda thank you is that?" Grimmjow sniped, jerking his cut arm into the light to assess the damage.

Ichigo's face softened. Ok, he hadn't asked for the intervention but if this guy hadn't helped, he'd be dead or kidnapped. He remembered the cut and stepped right up in the guy's space, taking his arm carefully to examine it.

"Looks like you're going to need some stitching. It's not too terribly deep, but it's better to be safe than sorry," Ichigo said, turning his arm this way and that in the light to see better through all the blood.

Grimmjow arched an eyebrow.

"Ya' some kinda' doctor, kid?"

Ichigo grinned up at him.

"Nearly graduated from pre-med actually, and my dad has a small clinic. You tend to pick stuff up after a while."

Well, wasn't this guy just a box full of surprises?

"Good, cuz I fuckin' hate hospitals. You can close this shit up fer me."

"Alright," agreed Ichigo, grasping the end of his t-shirt and pulling. He tore a strip off; ignoring the look he was getting from the blue haired guy and wrapped it around his arm, tying it off tightly.

"You live far from here?" he asked.

"Naw, I live in Hueco Mundo, and the way I drive, it's only a 15 minute ride. If you can handle that," he added in a slightly mocking tone.

Ichigo bristled.

"I'm not scared."

"Alright, let's go then before I bleed out in this parking lot," Grimmjow said, pushing up from the post.

Ichigo rolled his eyes but followed the guy, checking out his ass as they winded through the cars. They were getting farther and farther from the club into the deep recesses of the parking lot. Why the fuck did this guy have to park out in BFE?

When they came to a stop in front of the most gorgeous motorcycle he'd ever seen, Ichigo knew why. He snapped his jaw closed from its open position of shock when the blue haired guy tossed his helmet to him.

"Don't normally let anybody on this bike much less drive em' to my house, so you'll have ta wear mine, don't got a spare," he said, swinging his leg over the bike and settling himself into the seat. He looked damn good on it, so good in fact if he wasn't needing some medical attention Ichigo would have fucked him right now on the bike, in the parking lot for the whole world to see.

"Ya comin'?" growled the bluenette, and Ichigo remembered himself and jammed the helmet on. The guy smirked as Ichigo slid into the seat behind him, only a small cushion of leather separating his crotch from being nestled in the small of the guy's back. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms firmly around his waist, careful of the injured arm and his feet found the foot pegs.

"Good ta go?" the guy asked.

"Yeah," replied Ichigo.

"Alright, Imma only say this once. Hold on, kid."

The engine roared to life and they were off like a shot before Ichigo could even snap back a witty riposte.

* * *

**End Chapter. **_Yikes, fights can be scary. Grimmjow and Ichigo make a pretty good ass-kicking duo though. Comments much appreciated! =)_


	4. Chapter 4: Magic Trick

**I don't own Bleach or its characters. **_Hello all! OMG I'm sorry it took this long to update, but between my schedual and my beta friend Misc, Ink's, who is buying her first house (YAY! CONGRATS! It's so exciting!) I've gotten a tad bit behind. *hangs head in shame* I will try to do better, and thank you for your patience and continued support of my work. Please enjoy!_

Chapter Four: Magic Trick

There weren't words to describe the exhilaration of flying at deadly speeds on a motorcycle, weaving in and out of traffic as slick as oil, the wind your only resistance. The adrenaline rush that had died after the fight was fully resurrected in both males as Grimmjow shot down the freeway with Pantera roaring beneath him, Ichigo's arms wound tight around his midsection. He briefly wondered how the hell this had happened; he'd never so much as entertained taking anybody from a club to his house. He always went to theirs, and promptly got ghost when he had his fill of them. Well, he'd deal with any awkwardness if it came later, and kept his sharp gaze focused ahead as he took the exit that would lead to home.

* * *

Ichigo decided that he was definitely a fan of motorcycles. He pressed himself tighter to Grimmjow when they took a rather tightly curved road, his heart hammering at the danger of taking the curves at the speed they were going. The motorcycle and its driver seemed to be one entity though, not even dropping one mile an hour as they cut those curves like butter. It was quite the experience. It was almost like the first time he went on a roller coaster – he was a bit nervous his legs would be like jello when he went to get off the bike.

Eventually the road evened out into a straight line that seemed to disappear into the darkness of the night, and after another three quarters of a mile they turned off onto a paved driveway that was tucked in a grove of Emory oak trees. Grimmjow slowed the bike as they rounded the drive to the side of the house, hitting a small remote on his keychain to lift one of the two garage doors.

Ichigo tried not to hyperventilate as they pulled into the garage stall and Grimmjow killed the engine. He could tell from Grimmjow's clothes, his bike, shit even the way the guy smelled that he had money. How much money, however, wasn't apparent until he caught a glimpse of the house from the outside. It was beautiful. It was a towering gray bricked structure with a modern edge, tastefully landscaped to showcase Hueco Mundo's near desert like climate. He suddenly had a lot of trepidation to step foot in the house.

_Not much he could do about it now_, he supposed, as Grimmjow snapped down the kick stand. Ichigo released his hold on Grimmjow, who got off the bike and held out a hand to Ichigo. Ichigo scowled beneath the visor of the helmet, which Grimmjow couldn't see due to the dark tint, but he took the offered hand despite resenting being treated like a girl, because it meant he got to touch Grimmjow some more. Once off the bike, he quickly withdrew his hand and took off the helmet, sitting it on the bike.

"Let's get you sewn up," Ichigo commanded, gesturing to the arm that was bandaged in his strip of t-shirt. He could see bright circles of blood on the light colored fabric from the wound being jarred during the ride.

"Yes sir!" Grimmjow said, giving Ichigo a mock salute. He wasn't quick enough hiding the wince of pain he got from stupidly using the injured arm and Ichigo smirked at his idiocy.

* * *

Resisting the urge to flip the kid off, Grimmjow led the way to the side entrance to the house, punching in the code to unlock the door on the wall panel. The panel turned green and beeped once, and Grimmjow swung the door wide, standing aside to let Ichigo in after flipping the light switch just inside the door.

Grimmjow watched Ichigo's face. The kid had the most interesting expressions when he forgot to hide them behind his scowl. Right now Ichigo seemed to be torn between awe and discomfort. Grimmjow wondered about the latter, but was experiencing his own discomfort about allowing a total stranger into his sanctuary.

He watched as Ichigo toed out of his shoes, black converses, and kicked them off to the side. He took a few steps carefully in his socked feet across the glossed ebony wood floor before turning to look over his shoulder at Grimmjow.

"You planning on showing me to a bathroom, or shall you just remain bleeding in the door way of your kitchen?"

"Keep yer panties on," Grimmjow snapped, bending to unlace his motorcycle boots. He shucked them over by Ichigo's shoes; ignoring the tingling need to take them directly back to the closet with the promise to himself he'd do it as soon as Ichigo was gone.

He led Ichigo through the stainless steel and granite counter-topped kitchen, across the beige terrazzo flooring in the living room, and up a spiral staircase to the second floor. He led Ichigo into the master bathroom and after snapping on the lights, retrieved a first aid kit from the floating console mounted on the right wall.

"Shall I just sit on the toilet, doctor?" he asked, handing off the first aid kit to Ichigo, who hadn't said a word since they left the kitchen.

Ichigo shook his head in the negative, gesturing for him to join him at the console. Ichigo ran the water, letting it heat, soaping and scrubbing his hands under the water thoroughly.

"Take off the coat, and the t-shirt too, it's best to just do it all now. I don't want to get blood all over your clothes. Do you have white towels? Not that I want to ruin your towels, but it's best to use ones without colored dyes in them when treating wounds…"

While Ichigo blathered on about towels, Grimmjow had stripped from the waist up. He opened a drawer in the console and removed a couple off white hand towels, enjoying the feel of Ichigo's eyes roaming over his bare flesh.

* * *

Ichigo's mouth was suddenly dry at the buffet of half naked man in front of him, but he quickly remembered himself and his task at hand. He opened the first aid kit on the white marble counter top, arching a brow at how in depth the kit was. Examining the kit further as he pulled out a needle and silk thread, he glanced at Grimmjow out of his peripheral as he sterilized the needle with alcohol.

"So, you never actually told me your name. It wouldn't be good bedside manner for me not to know my patient's name."

"Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, at yer service," Grimmjow answered, standing still as Ichigo took his arm. He watched as Ichigo's eyebrows scrunched together, as if he was trying to remember something. Grimmjow didn't flinch when Ichigo pressed the burning hot, soapy towel to his wound, gently cleaning around the area and looking at it critically. He turned it this way and that, must have liked what he saw, because he gently tugged Grimmjow closer so that he could put his arm beneath the faucet after he quickly cooled the water.

"I'm Ichigo Kurosaki, by the way. The wound is just deep enough to require stitches, like I originally thought," Ichigo commented, soaping the wound and rinsing it well beneath the water, trying to remain clinically detached from the hunk that was literally breathing on his neck from their close proximity and hunched posture at the sink.

Grimmjow just responded with a light grunt, fascinated with watching Ichigo work. He let Ichigo pat his arm dry and followed Ichigo's instructions to lay his arm out on the towel on the counter top. He watched Ichigo deftly thread the needle and then those brown eyes were on his, compassionate and warm, and he swallowed hard.

Ichigo smiled kindly at him.

"I'll do my best to make this as painless as possible, since we have no local to give you for numbing. It shouldn't be too bad, but you let me know if you need to take a breather or anything, ok?"

If it were any other person, Grimmjow would have scoffed, told them to fuck off and that he wasn't no pussy. But he could only bring himself to nod under that gaze, which really made him wonder what the fuck was wrong with him.

He didn't have time to ponder it, becoming distracted by the needle entering his skin. Ichigo's hands moved with a fluidity consistent to water, completely sure in their movements. He kept his touch light; Grimmjow really didn't feel any discomfort. Before he knew it, Ichigo was tying off the thread in a surgeons knot.

"It looked worse than it really was, but that was probably due to the alcohol and adrenaline in your system," Ichigo said, smoothing some antibiotic ointment over the stitch job. He met Grimmjow's eyes.

"It's not every day you come across somebody with a military grade first aid kit. Were you in the military?"

Grimmjow's infamous grin spread across his face.

"Naw kid, I'm not the best at takin' orders. I was pretty much raised like a boy scout, ya know, always be prepared n' shit. I own a construction company, so it comes in handy to have a bit more detailed first aid kit around. Those are just like the ones we keep on job sites."

"Which construction company?" Ichigo asked, tilting his head slightly so that he looked like a curious puppy. Kid was just too damn cute for his own good.

"Espada," Grimmjow replied, his eyebrow quirking as he watched realization dawn in Ichigo's eyes.

"You are Mayor Aizen's son?"

"Nephew," corrected Grimmjow, feeling anger starting to prickle under his skin. He hadn't pegged the kid for either a fame banger or a gold digger, but conversations that started like this always led down those roads.

Ichigo straightened up and began washing his hands.

"I thought your name sounded familiar, as if I heard it before. My father knows Aizen through some other contacts of his. I've met him a time or two when I was younger at charity events, he's a charming guy."

Grimmjow snorted, both at the statement and in surprise. It seemed this kid was going to prove him wrong at every turn.

Ichigo scowled at Grimmjow's rude noise. He replaced the contents of the first aid kit and tossed out the needle after wrapping it in several layers of toilet paper. He eyed Grimmjow, who was straightening from the counter where he was looking over Ichigo's job.

"You are gonna make a great doctor, kid. I wasn't even scared."

"I'm 24, Grimmjow, I'm not a kid."

Grimmjow smirked, and Ichigo flushed a little. He wished he'd put his shirt back on. It was distracting.

"Well, I got four years on ya', so guess what? Yer a kid."

Ichigo's scowl deepened.

"What the hell kind of logic is that? A four year difference doesn't make me a kid."

Ichigo nearly jumped out of his skin when Grimmjow moved suddenly, closing the gap between them and placing his hands on the counter on either side of Ichigo. There was barely a few inches of space between them, and Ichigo could feel the heat radiating off Grimmjow's skin.

"Thanks for sewin' me up, now let's say we skip over the pretenses and get to the good shit."

Ichigo's jaw locked in anger as he glared up at the man towering before him.

"What makes you so sure I want to sleep with you? I think sewing your wound was payment enough."

Grimmjow's smirk turned feral, and Ichigo wasn't prepared for his next move. Grimmjow's hands left the counter and latched onto his hips, lifting him off his feet and plopping him on his ass on the countertop. He stood between Ichigo's legs and one large hand abandoned its hold to stroke over the crotch of his jeans.

* * *

The semi hardness that Ichigo had been battling since the removal of Grimmjow's shirt gave him away as it twitched and swelled further beneath Grimmjow's ministrations, making his jeans seem like a cage. Ichigo was proud of himself for not making any noise, but couldn't stop his hips from shifting into the movement of Grimmjow's teasing hand.

Grimmjow leaned in so his lips were right next to Ichigo's ear, his breath tickling the sensitive flesh.

"It ain't about repayment, kid. It's about me wantin' to fuck ya until ya can't walk straight, like I've been wantin' to since I seen ya at the bar with yer friend."

Ichigo's knuckles went white from the grip he had on the edge of the counter. He turned his face so that he could meet Grimmjow's heavy gaze, his own lust shining in his eyes giving away his decision.

"In that case, I've got a magic trick you should know," Ichigo said lowly, grinning mischievously at the curiosity on Grimmjow's face.

"I'll take the bait, let's see it," Grimmjow replied. He stepped back and Ichigo slid gracefully off the counter, sinking to his knees before him. Ichigo made quick work of his belt and promptly had his jeans and boxer briefs down around his ankles. Grimmjow was pleased with his eagerness, watching Ichigo stare at his cock bobbing up and down as he kicked away the offensive garments.

Grimmjow's interest was further amplified by the fact that not an ounce of confidence left the kid's face once his dick was out. He wasn't much longer than average length, but girth was another story and Ichigo didn't seem intimidated in the least. _Good_.

Ichigo slid his hands upward over toned calves and muscular thighs, leaving them still on Grimmjow's hips when they got there. He leaned in and licked Grimmjow's dick- which was pretty damn impressive, he was going to be sore tomorrow- from base to tip. Grimmjow's dick jumped in response.

Ichigo leaned back slightly, looking up at Grimmjow from his position on the floor.

"Usually magicians don't tell how their tricks work, but I think you'd like to know."

"How do you do it?" asked Grimmjow with a smirk, none of his previous liaisons had ever really been playful, he was enjoying this new experience.

Ichigo gave him the most devious smile he'd ever seen, before replying "No gag reflex."

Grimmjow didn't even have time to process the words before Ichigo's hot mouth swallowed him to the hilt. His toes curled and his hands threaded deeply into thick orange spikes. He didn't even realize he'd shouted the word "FUCK!" until his ears caught the echo ringing around the bathroom.

* * *

**END CHAPTER. **_Ok, please don't kill me for stopping it there! The next chapter will contain all the smut you want. I'll even consider requests =). Comments always appreciated. XD_


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